


Let Brave Words Be Spoken

by glowinghorizons



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enchanted Forest AU. Princess Emma was sent away as a child in order to escape the wrath of the Evil Queen. Trying to find some adventure, she goes on a quest to find a magical object for The Dark One, who has promised to help keep her family safe in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title and lyrics inside are taken from the song "Winter Hymns" by Charlie Simpson.

_my heart is in stormy weather_

_and the pain is all I have for now_

_and I’m homebound_

_—————-_

“Get a dragon’s egg, he said,” Emma mutters to herself as she hoists herself up onto another rock ledge, “It won’t be that hard, he said.” She rolls her eyes to herself as she finally pulls herself up the last ledge, the dragon’s egg warm in the satchel that’s strapped across her body. She’s covered in soot and feels like she’s got a cut on her forehead, but she has the item she’s been looking for, and in the moment, she feels like she can do anything.

When she finally reaches the top of the cavern (which had been nearly blown to smithereens by the dragon after Emma had swiped the egg, leaving her with almost no way out), she starts to laugh, partly in relief, and partly because she can’t believe how her life has turned into this.

_“Emma, Emma you have to run!” The sound of her father’s voice is booming in her ears over the sound of a battle raging in the courtyard. The fear in his eyes is visible even to her at six years old._

_“Emma, listen to your father. He’s going to take you to your godmother, okay?” Tears are filling her mother’s eyes, along with fierce determination._

_“I don’t want to go, I want to stay!” Emma will not cry, she will not, but she wants to, because this isn’t **fair**._

_“Emma, you need to go to be safe. We will find you, Emma. One day, we will find you when it’s safe and you can come home. We love you so much, Emma, but you need to go with Red. Okay?”_

Shaking the memories away, Emma closes her eyes briefly, trying to center herself. Listening to the sounds of the forest around her, she stills when she hears a faint footfall. It’s not far away, and they’re clearly trying to be quiet, but Emma knows these woods like the back of her hand; she knows the sounds they make, and knows when she’s being watched.

She opens her eyes slowly, and grabs her canteen out of her satchel, trying to remain nonchalant even though she’s sure she’s about to either be ambushed, or is going to be followed wherever she goes. After taking a long swig, she spins around to face a clearing where she knows the intruder is. “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to come out?” She calls, and is rewarded with a soft chuckle as a man, dressed entirely in back, steps out of the shadows.

“How did you know I was there?” He asks, and she tilts her head to the side, glancing at him curiously.

“Oh, were you not aware of how much noise you were making? I’m surprised the ogres haven’t awakened.” She puts her canteen back into her satchel, securing the bag tightly at her side, and slips one hand into the pocket sewn into the side of her breeches, where her dagger is tucked. She grips the hilt, but keeps her arm relaxed at she stares at the stranger.

“I’m impressed,” he says, coming closer, and she has to remind herself firmly not to get distracted by his clothing, which signals that he is a pirate. She wonders briefly why a pirate would be so far from the sea, but that thought only makes her worried that he has been sent by Regina. Why else would a pirate venture this far into the forest, or to a dragon’s lair? “I can count on one hand the number of people who have bested me.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” She asks, noting that his left arm is tucked behind his back so she can’t see it.

He shrugs, but doesn’t answer, and takes two hesitant steps towards her, his eyes firmly on her satchel.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes again. “Look, if you’re thinking of robbing me,” she looks him straight in the eyes, “Don’t.” The word is firm when it leaves her lips, and she sees his eyes widen in surprise before he schools his features back into nonchalance. “I’ve had a very long, tiring day, and I don’t really feel like skewering you.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, and takes a few quick strides towards her. She pulls her dagger from her breeches quickly and sidesteps him, coming behind him and pressing her blade to his neck. “You’re feisty, aren’t you,” he rasps, and she presses her blade tighter to his throat.

“Stop talking.” She loosens the pressure of her hold, and takes a step backwards. “I am going to walk into the forest now. You’re not going to follow me, and you’re not going to try to ambush me once I turn my back.”

“And what makes you so sure?” He says the words calmly, but she can hear the frustration in his voice.

“Because I could have killed you just now, and I didn’t.”

Before he can reply, she takes a few quick steps backwards, keeping her eyes on his back where he still stands at the entrance to the dragon’s lair, before turning and sprinting into the woods, not lessening her stride until she is confident he won’t find her.

.

.

.

Standing in the clearing, his fist clenched at his side, he grits his teeth as he tries to figure out how far away she is. He turns around quickly, surprised when she is completely out of sight. He can’t even hear her, which reminds him of her comment about how loud he had been. He curses quietly, angry with himself for letting this chance get away from him.

When he asked around at the port town near this forest about The Dark One, he heard rumblings about a bandit of sorts who was acquiring things for the Crocodile. He figured if he found them, the person would lead him right to his revenge. He hadn’t counted on that person being a woman, or that woman being able to best him more easily than he planned.

“Bloody women,” he growled to himself, trekking into the woods to try and figure out where she’s gone. His throat still stings, and he reaches up to feel a trickle of blood run from where her dagger had pressed, and he feels a new surge of anger bubble inside of him. Even as he walks, she is grating on his nerves, and he can’t remember the last time that happened.

(He pushes away thoughts of Milah, of the love he thought he had but never got a chance to really explore, all because she was taken from him)

He is sure that this woman is the person doing the Crocodile’s bidding, and he wonders what on Earth was in that satchel. She had been covered in grime (which had done nothing to diminish her striking features, but he tries not to think about that), and was bleeding as well, but had seemed to think nothing of it, which startled him. As he walks, he wipes a hand downwards over his face, wondering when his revenge had become a task instead of his life’s mission.

A sudden rumble in the distance had him whirling around, his eyes widening when he sees the trees in the distance parting ominously.  _Ogres._  He turns tail, running as fast as he can in the opposite direction, wondering what has gotten the giant beasts so out of sorts so close to him. His first thought is that it’s the Crocodile, who seems to always know where he is and what he’s doing, but he doesn’t waste time dwelling on it, not when his life is in danger.

A tree root snags his boot and he’s stumbling to the forest floor, scrambling to catch himself as the earth continues to shake under him, and his senses are on overload.  _Get up get up get up!_  He clamors to his feet, eyes flitting across the trees that surround him, trying to find a place to hide.

“Hey!” He hears a voice and turns, seeing a flash of golden hair whipping around a tree to his left. “Don’t just stand there, move!” She shrieks, and he barely has time to register that it’s  _her_  before there’s an ogre not more than one hundred yards from him.

He follows her voice, and when he sees her, the first thing he notices is the fire in her eyes, eyes that are greener than the forest surrounding them. He’s momentarily transfixed, but he shakes himself out of it, knowing that any hesitation will cost them both their lives. He follows as she takes off into the trees, having to run as fast as his legs will carry him just to keep up with her. He gets hit in the face with a branch at one point, and curses loud enough for her to pause and glance back at him, only to roll her eyes and keep going as he touches his cheek to check for blood. “No, don’t worry about me, lass!” He calls sarcastically, but she doesn’t look back again, just takes a sharp right at the road. He follows her as she slows considerably, looking around them to see (presumably) if anyone is watching.

The ground around them shakes again, and he is surprised when he feels her warm hand grip his forearm, physically pulling him with her as she ducks into a small cave that he hadn’t even realized was there. She keeps her hand around his arm, and he briefly realizes it’s his left arm that she grabbed without hesitation. He doesn’t have time to process this before she’s whirling around, glaring at him with force. “Who are you?”

“Now, is that anyway to start a—”

Her dagger is against his throat before he can even finish he sentence, and whatever he was going to stay dies on his lips. “Consider this a favor. I saved your life, and now you owe me. You can start by telling me who the hell you are, and what you want.” Her voice is a low hiss, and behind the fierce façade, he can see the fear in her eyes. Whether it’s him, or the fact that they were just nearly killed by an ogre, he isn’t sure, but it’s there, and she’s trying very hard to hide it.

“Killian Jones,” he says with a sigh after a moment passes, and her grip on her dagger lessens slightly. “But I don’t suppose that’s a name you recognize, is it?”

“Should I?”

“Not in the slightest, but that’s because people have taken to calling me by my more colorful moniker… Hook.”

“Captain Hook?!”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me!” He says, grinning. “And you are?”

She hesitates before answering, “Emma.” She doesn’t give a last name. “Why are you following me?”

“You’re working for The Dark One,” he spits the name, “Don’t try to deny it. You’re something of an open book, love.”

“I’m not your love,” she retorts, taking the blade off his throat. “Why do you care if I’m working for Rumplestiltskin?”

“He has something that belongs to me,” Killian growls, thinking of his lost love, and of his lost limb. “I intend to get it back. You can lead me to him.”

“Sounds to me like you want to kill him,” she says, and he’s once again impressed by how well she can read him. Perhaps this ‘open book’ thing goes both ways. “You understand that I can’t let that happen.”

“You would protect that… that  _monster_?” His emotions get the better of him, and he practically snarls at her.

“I would protect someone that owes a favor, yes!” She shouts back at him, and he senses that there’s something else to this story that she’s not telling him. He realizes he’s not going to get any answers, not when he’s practically her captive in this cave. He knows he has to face it – she is his best chance. He doesn’t know this part of the forest, not like she does, and he needs to get to the Crocodile’s castle. If he can convince her to let him escort her there, maybe he can finally,  _finally_ , have his revenge.

.

.

.

She’s so  _tired_. On top of everything she went through today, she really didn’t think she’d be essentially trapped inside a cave with  _Captain Hook_ , but here she is. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, where he’s leaning against the wall. She knows his eyes are on her as she tries to start a fire, seeing as how they’re going to have to sleep in this cave as well, but after their argument earlier, neither of them wants to speak too much.

“I want to go with you,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Excuse me?” She doesn’t look up from her bundle of twigs, but she can tell he’s clenching his jaw by the way his words are coming out.

“If you’ll allow me to accompany you to The Dark One’s castle, I’ll wait until after you get whatever it is he owes you before I kill him.”

“You won’t kill him.”

“You don’t know anything about me—”

“I mean: he won’t give you the chance to kill him, Hook. He’s the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms, or have you forgotten?” Her fire started, she stands, facing him. “Do you even have a plan? Or are you just going to storm in there and hope for the best?” He’s quiet, his entire body tense. She tenses as well, when she realizes why he doesn’t even have a plan. “Unless you don’t plan on surviving an attack?”

“If I can wound him severely enough, then my revenge is complete. There’ll be no reason for me to be alive.”

Emma takes a step forward, closer so she can see his eyes. He looks infinitely sad in that moment, and she finds herself fighting the urge to place a hand on his arm to comfort him. “What did he do to you?” She asks, her voice soft.

He meets her eyes, and the anguish there steals her breath. “He took my love from me. That, and my left hand. He’s a monster, Emma.” His voice is softer as well, and she doesn’t know when they got so close, but she takes two steps backwards to try and lessen the unexpected tension that has risen between them.

After a few long moments of silence, she takes a breath before speaking, “You can go with me.” She sees him open his mouth to reply, but she holds up a hand before he can get a word out, “You can go with me, but  _I_ am the one who is going to call the shots.”

“Emma—”

“No, Hook, there’s no arguing this. I know this forest better than you,” she says, earning a scoff from him, “and I know where we’re going. Don’t forget that I have something at stake here. If I don’t get him what he wants, he’s not going to hold up his end of the deal, and he’ll probably try to kill me.”

Hook quiets at that, before nodding. “Fine. We leave in the morning.”

“Who did I say is calling the shots?”

“Emma, darling, what do you say about leaving in the morning?” He says in a mocking tone, bowing with a flourish.

“Shut up.”

.

.

.

One thing is for sure; he has never met anyone quite like Emma. She won’t tell him much about her life, other than that she has lived alone for years, and acquiring objects for other (richer) people is how she makes enough coin to survive. He supposes he admires her for it – she is willing to be alone and be bold enough to go on these missions for people who could very well be sending her to her death.

(He thinks she is tougher than that, though, and that there isn’t much that scares her, which makes him admire her more)

The morning comes and they both wake slowly, light from the sunrise streaming into the mouth of the cave. He is distracted by the way she stretches, working the sleep from her bones, and the way the sunlight gleams off of her golden hair. He knows this is dangerous, this way of thinking. She is beautiful, that is undeniable, but he tells himself she is just a means to an end, and that the sooner they get to the Crocodile, the better.

They begin their trek early in the morning, and he does as she asked – he follows her blindly and listens to everything she tells him about the forest. It seems that teaching other people about the forest and how to survive in it lessens her anxiety, so he lets her ramble on, even when she starts to slip and tell him little things from her childhood, like how she used to spend hours in the woods practicing sword fighting with her father (the fact that she is trained with a blade only makes her more alluring). She catches herself, however, and he respects her enough to not make any sly comments, though he wants to lighten the mood.

Instead, he tells her a little bit about how he used to be in the Royal Navy. The look on her face when he tells her is worth it – her eyes showing equal parts surprise, admiration and amusement. He mentions Liam, and it strikes him that he’s only known her for a day, yet feels comfortable enough to tell her about a part of his life that only a few people are privy to.

They walk for nearly the entire day, only stopping briefly to rest and to refresh their water. The ogres seem to be resting for the moment as well, which has helped them in their journey immensely. He is resting on a log, waiting for Emma to come back from the stream with their canteens when he hears it – the clamoring of horse hooves and a carriage. He is on his feet instantly, looking for any sign of the blonde woman, but he doesn’t see her anywhere, and he curses.

He thinks better of calling out for her and decides to head for the stream. The hooves are louder now, and he can hear the sounds of a struggle, and his heart begins to pound, thinking of all the things that could be happening.. When he bursts out of the tree line onto the small bank near the stream, his eyes widen and a shout lodges in his throat when he sees her, dagger out, in close combat with three soldiers, two of which are nearly twice her size. “Oy!” He shouts, trying to get their attention, “Is that any way to treat a lady?” He asks, and draws his sword before they even know what is happening. Emma uses his interruption to her advantage, and ducks underneath the arms of her would-be-captor, turning so her back is pressed against Killian’s. They work together, her with her dagger and he with his sword, and he suspects her right hook has come into play as well. He grins, both from the pun in his own thoughts and from the adrenaline of the fight, and soon enough, the soldiers are disarmed and unconscious, in a heap on the ground.

He turns to make a witty comment, but Emma is already facing him, her emerald eyes wide with fright. She is nearly shaking, and he knows something is terribly wrong, otherwise the strong, brave woman he met the day before would not be reacting this way.

“What’s happened? Are you hurt? Where… Emma?” He asks frantically, scanning her body for any sign of blood or broken bones.

“We have to run.”

“What? Why?”

“We have to run! They saw my face… they saw… we have to run. Now, Killian!”

It’s the use of his first name that jars him into action, and he lets her lead him back into the trees, watching as she triple checks that her satchel is secure at her side. He has a hundred questions, but doesn’t even know how to begin to ask them. They run for what seems like ages, and he knows she’s not thinking. They’re running aimlessly, and finally he jogs around to stand in front of her, halting her movement. He grips her upper arms, and forces her to look at him. “Emma. Emma!”

“We have to keep moving, we have to…”

“Emma, stop. Just stop for a moment. Have some water.” He forces her canteen into her hands, and is relieved when he sees that she’s not shaking nearly as much as she was by the stream. “Why… Emma, why did they attack you?”

“They’re the Evil Queen’s guard.”

“What does that matter? What business have they with you?”

She toes at the dirt with her boot, avoiding his eyes, and he knows he won’t get a straight answer out of her, not now. “It’s a long story,” is all she says. “We should keep moving.”

.

.

.

The run-in with the Black Knights was too close, even for her liking. She thinks she could have handled the situation, but still, she is glad that Hook stepped in when he did. She is upset with herself for nearly having a panic attack in front of him, but she’s sure that at least one of those guards got a good look at her face. If they weren’t sure that she was the woman they’re looking for when they first happened upon her at the stream, they would be sure of it now, and it would only be a matter of time before Regina caught up with her.

Suddenly, getting to Rumplestiltskin was even more important than ever.

They camp at a small clearing surrounded by overgrown bushes for the night, and Emma studiously avoids Hook’s curious gaze as long as possible. She can feel the heat of his eyes on her wherever she goes, and it unsettles her. She sees a lot of herself in him; sees the way they both had rough childhoods and how it’s shaped them. She sees her need to protect those who are most important to her in his eyes as well, and is afraid that he will unravel all of her secrets and use them against her.

_“Emma, you must never tell anyone who you are. If they find out that you are a Princess, they will do anything to take advantage of you. Do you understand?”_

She tries to rid her mind of her father’s voice, but it follows her everywhere, just like every day of her life. She is working on a time limit now, and she knows that if Regina can’t find her, she will go to her parents and try to use them to get to her. She knows it, and she can’t let it happen.

“Emma, I can practically hear you thinking from over here.” Hook’s voice is low, quiet in the night air.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I can protect you, you know. If you tell me what’s going on.”

Emma rises from her place by the small campfire and rounds on him, “I don’t need your protection,  _Hook_.”

“You seemed to appreciate it when you were outnumbered, love.”

“You don’t know me, Hook. You don’t know anything about me, or why I do what I do, or what my motives are. You would do well to remember that.”

“And you think you’ve got me all figured out then, do you? Because I told you one insignificant thing about my past?”

“I know that you’re a  _pirate_ , and that’s all I need to know.”

He recoils as if she’s slapped him, and regret fills her instantly at the hurt look on his face that he quickly replaces with anger. He stands slowly, and closes the distance between them even slower. “Make no mistake, Emma, I don’t  _need_  you.” She flinches at the cold, unattached tone to his voice, “If traveling with a pirate brings you so low, perhaps it’s best that we go our separate ways, before we both do or say anything that we’ll regret.”

“I thought you had no idea where you were going,” she points out, hands on her hips.

“Well I’ll bloody well figure it out! Seven hells, Emma, you’re infuriating. You have walls up so high that you can’t let anyone in, even when they’re trying to help you. I might be a pirate, but even I know the value of a good partnership.”

“Is that what we are? Partners?”

“Not anymore,” is Hook’s angry reply, before he turns on his heel and heads out into the dark forest.


	2. Part 2

_Just let us grow  
_ _your patience was lost in the sea_

_just don’t go_   
_and all this darkness will come_   
_my heart is in stormy weather_   
_and the pain is all I have for now_   
_and I’m homebound_

_._

_._

_._

He is  _furious_. He is furious for a handful of reasons – mainly because she has gotten under his skin so keenly in the two days that they’ve known each other. No one has done that to him. No one has intrigued him as much as she does, not for a long, long time.

He knows that she has trust issues; he could tell that from the moment he met her, but he also knows that they have a connection. They worked well together, that much was obvious during the duel against the Black Knights, and damn it all if he’s still curious about why they would be after her.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” a voice from behind him says, and he grips the hilt of his sword quickly, spinning around to face the stranger. He can’t tell if it’s a man or woman, the cloak shrouding their face and unusual accent doing nothing to help him get his bearings. “The forest is a dangerous place at night.”

“Who are you?”

“The question you should be asking yourself, Captain, is who is  _she_?”

His brows furrow in confusion, “What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Be careful of the company you keep. It could put you in more danger than the path to revenge that you are on.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” he says sarcastically, taking a step closer, only just then noticing the faint traces of blood on the stranger’s hands.

“Not to worry. At dawn, she will be gone, and you will be free to pursue… other ventures.”

Killian’s heart starts to race at the implication behind the words, and in a flash he has the stranger pressed against the tree, his hook pressed to their throat. “What have you done to her?” In the struggle, the stranger’s cloak slips, and he realizes that the stranger is a woman. She has dark hair and dark eyes, but lips painted ruby red, and her smile is not inviting, but cruel, and he knows that whatever she’s done, Emma doesn’t have much time left.

“You better hurry, Captain,” the woman sneers, and when he hesitates, she disappears into thin air, leaving only her cloak behind.

Killian doesn’t pause to consider his options – he only spares a millisecond before he is racing back to where he and Emma parted ways, and he hopes that he isn’t too late. Somewhere over the course of the day, Emma has managed to affect him in a way that has not occurred in nearly all his years of pirating. He has perfected the art of refusing to care for anyone, in the off chance that something should happen to him or her. For whatever reason, his guard is let down around the blonde enigma, and he finds himself wanting to know everything about her – what makes her tick, what makes her so distrusting…  _everything_. The thought is equal parts terrifying and thrilling, but he can’t think about that now. He needs to get to her.

Racing through the trees, he wills himself to relax, to be calm, because  _gods_ , this is not what Emma needs right now. Emma doesn’t need him to panic, she needs him to be levelheaded and to be able to help her, and he forces his heart to stop racing before it nearly beats right out of her chest.

“Emma!” He shouts when he rounds the corner and sees her, facedown in the clearing where they had last spoken to each other. She doesn’t move, but he can hear her whimpering and it nearly breaks him, but he forces himself to move forward. “Emma, love, come on…” He turns her over and is gratified to see her eyes open, pupils darting about wildly until she settles on him. “There you are, darling, that’s it,” his voice falters slightly when he sees the large wound in her side, and the way she is curling in on herself.

She is so different than the spitfire of a woman he has come to know over the course of a day, and it jars him into action. Seeing her so vulnerable makes him feel off balance. He presses his hand to the wound in her side, watching as she winces and tries to roll away from him. “It hurts,” she croaks, “There was a woman—“

“Don’t waste your breath love,” he says gently, turning her onto her back once more. “Just stay right there. Don’t try to move. I’m going to try and stop the bleeding, savvy?” He takes his scarf from around his neck and winds the soft fabric around her stomach, tying it as tight as it will go, allowing her little motion, but still able to breathe.

“My satchel—“ She breaks off her sentence, moaning pitifully in a way that has his heart clenching in his chest, “—There’s a bottle in my satchel, you have to—“ She groans again, and he reaches for the bag that is lying not too far from her body. He wonders why the woman who hurt her didn’t try to steal whatever it is she’s bringing to the Crocodile, but shoves the thought to the back of his mind as he begins to root through her bag, looking for a bottle of _something_  that can help her.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for, Emma.”

“A blue bottle. There are leaves inside, herbs.” Her breathing is growing shallow, and a bolt of fear strikes him when he realizes that she might not make it.  _No_. “Those herbs can be used to—“ She gasps for breath “—To speed up the healing of a wound…”

“Emma,  _please_. Just… just let me help you.” His hands are shaking somewhat as he twists the stopper out of the bottle, and pulls out the small leaves.

“Get them wet—”

“I’ve got it. I’ve treated many a wound in my day,” he tells her, trying to keep the mood light. He sets to work, wetting the leaves with water from his canteen and placing them on her wound. In order to see it better, he rips open her thin shirt slightly with his hook, apologizing all along.

“I don’t care what you do, as long as you make it stop hurting,” she says, gritting her teeth.

A short time later, her wound is dressed, and all there’s left to do is wait. Emma falls into a restless sleep, and Killian barely sleeps a wink.

.

.

.

The morning comes with a jolt from Killian, who bolts upright to check on Emma after he remembers the events from the day before.

In the place where she had slept, there is a note.

_Hook,  
Thank you, and I’m sorry._

_—E._

Killian crumples it into his fist.

.

.

.

Emma makes her way up the cobblestones to Red and Granny’s cottage, a feeling of  _home_  washing over her so strongly she fears her legs might give out.  _That might be the blood loss_ , she thinks, in a voice strangely like Hook’s.  _No_.

She can’t think of him.

He saw too much of her, and she saw too much of herself in him. When he dressed her wound, she hadn’t even thought to ask what made him come back for her, only had time to be thankful that he had. She wasn’t sure what the blade that sliced her was laced with, but she is sure that she was poisoned. That could be the only reason for her immobility after she had been hurt.

He had come back for her, though, that’s all that mattered. She knows that he kept watch over her during the night. She thinks she might have felt the burn of his gaze on her, even in her sleep, and the thought terrifies her.

“Emma!” Red’s voice is shrill, and the brunette is instantly at her side, supporting her weight as Emma limps up to the front door, “Where the hell have you been?!”

“It’s a long story, do you think it can wait?”

“You’re hurt,” Red’s tone is full of fear and anger, and Emma feels guilty. She hadn’t even told Red or Granny that she was leaving; couldn’t stand the thought of telling them she was working for The Dark One. “Come inside, Granny can help.”

Emma doesn’t protest, just looks forward to a warm bed and a home cooked meal. Ruby helps her inside, and after receiving the full strength of Granny’s wrath, Emma succumbs to Red’s questions and tells her the entire story.

“You know he’s going to go there with or without you—“ She mentions casually, as she changes the dressing on Emma’s wound, “—He’s going to get himself killed.”

Emma sighs, “I told you, I can’t do anything to help him. I was going to get what I needed and leave, anyway.”

Red makes a noise of amusement, and Emma narrows her eyes at her. “What?”

“Nothing, just that I find it hard to believe you would have just left him there. You did save his life once already, and he yours.”

Emma is silent, letting the woman who has become a second mother to her change the subject. She thinks about Hook, thinks about his revenge plot that can only end in death, and thinks about how gentle he had been when he had cared for her. She knows there is good in him, or else she wouldn’t be so afraid of their connection. He has he ability to make her trust him, and the idea that it could happen so easily, and become so second nature… it makes her jumpy.

He is the last thing she thinks of before she falls asleep.

.

.

.

Killian tromps around the forest angrily for nearly three days after waking up to find Emma gone, and by pure luck, spots a castle in the distance in between the trees late on the third night. The lights are bright, but the castle is all dark spires and oddly shaped turrets, and the presence of magic almost makes itself known – a faint buzzing in the air that Killian can feel all the way to his toes. His eyes narrow in determination and he begins his descent down the valley. It takes him quite a long time to get down the crest without killing himself in the process, but when he reaches the bottom, he can practically feel his revenge staring him in the face.

He walks cautiously towards the castle acutely aware that The Dark One’s magic is not to be trifled with. Gods know there could be all types of traps laid out for intruders, but Killian doesn’t care, not anymore, not when he is  _this close_ to getting what he has wanted for nearly three hundred years.

The front doors of the castle creak open loudly when Killian approaches one, and he swallows thickly, the feeling of being watched creeping up on him. “Bloody hell…” he groans when he takes in the majestic looking foyer, wondering how in seven hells he’s meant to find the Crocodile in this maze of a castle.

“Over here, dearie!”

Killian whirls around, but sees no one, just hears the echo of  _that voice_. He takes a few steps in the direction he thinks it might have come from, but stops in the middle of the room, anger bubbling up inside of him. “Come out and face me, you coward!”

“You always were impatient, Captain,” comes Rumplestiltskin’s voice from right behind Killian, who unsheathes his sword instantly. “Now, now, let’s not be hasty!”

“I’m going to kill you, Crocodile,” Killian growls, before lunging at the sorcerer, who disappears in a puff of smoke, leaving Killian sprawled out on the ground, the grip on his sword almost painful.

“You didn’t actually think I’d let you come to my own home and kill me, did you?” The man giggles, a high-pitched manic noise that instantly has Killian on edge.

Suddenly, the door to the castle bursts open, and there stands Emma, the light behind her giving her an almost ethereal glow. Her dagger in hand, she is every inch the warrior that Killian has come to know, and he feels the icy clench of fear around his heart that she would come here  _now_ , when magic is heavy in the air. “Hook!” She shrieks, and he turns around just in time to duck a fireball The Dark One has thrown.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” he hisses at her after she crosses the room to stand near him.

“I was coming here first, you idiot!”

He rolls his eyes, “Now is really not the time for this, love.”

“How cute,” The Crocodile sneers, “The princess and the pirate!” He claps his hands in glee as Killian freezes.

“Stop talking,” Emma demands, but the imp keeps grinning.

“What is he talking about?” Killian asks, the feeling of having the wool pulled over his eyes not one he enjoys. “Emma—”

“Now, don’t tell me you’ve actually started to care for this pirate? Whatever would your parents think?”

“Shut up,” Emma nearly growls, causing Rumplestiltskin to giggle again. “Just take what I have for you, and hold up your end of the deal.”

“And let the pirate live? No, I don’t think I will.”

Killian watches as the fire in Emma’s eyes intensifies, “We had a deal!” He can hear the emotion in her voice, and wonders what it was exactly that the Crocodile had promised her.

“Oh, a deal!” He grins, but then suddenly schools his features into nonchalance, “too bad.”

Killian lunges forwards once more, but is stopped by Emma’s grip on his arm. He looks back at her briefly, trying to gage the emotions he sees present in her eyes, and when she whispers, “please don’t…” he almost forgets how angry he was with her only a few hours ago.

“I will hold up my end of the deal, as long as you give me what I asked for…” the Dark One taunts, “and then leave the pirate to me.”

.

.

.

Emma tenses, her mind whirring as she tries to think of a way out of this situation she’s found herself in. She’s still doesn’t know where she stands with Hook, and suspects he’s still just as angry with her, but she certainly doesn’t wish him  _dead_ , no matter how annoyingly perceptive he can be.

On the other hand, she needs The Dark One to hold up his bargain. He has promised her coin, that much is true, but he has also promised some information that could help her parents defeat the Evil Queen, and he has also promised to teach her a protection spell. After all these years, she could go back home and be with her parents. After all these years, they could finally be a family and be together.

It was what she wanted more than anything, but was she willing to sacrifice another life in order to make sure that happened? Hook’s feud with Rumplestiltskin had nothing to do with her, but all the same, she knew that The Dark One would kill him painfully. Hook had no chance, and even worse, she thinks that he knows that. He knows that he would die in a fight with the sorcerer, and the thought makes Emma profoundly sad.

“… No.”

“What was that, dearie?”

“I said no,” she says firmly. “I give you what you want, you hold up our deal, and I leave here. With him,” she adds, pointing at Hook.

“I don’t believe you’re in any position to negotiate, Princess.”

Emma flinches at the sound of her title, but Hook doesn’t react, not like he did the first time she was called that. She squares her shoulders and looks back at the man who spent so much time imprisoned in the castle that she grew up in. “I still have the item you want. If you don’t hold up the deal, I’m tossing it right back to the dragon and you’ll have to go get it yourself.”

“ _Dragon?!_ ” Hook’s voice echoes around the room.

“Technically she’s a sorceress.”

“This is  _madness_ ,” Hook mutters, and Emma suppresses a snort. Now is not the time or the place to remember that Hook, for all he annoys her, can also be amusing.

“Enough!” Rumplestiltskin waves a hand, and Emma and Hook are both tossed against the front doors, held there by his magic. “Maybe I should, quite literally, kill two birds with one stone. I can take what you owe me, Princess, and kill the pirate.”

Emma struggles against the invisible binds, and sees Hook doing the same. She knows it’s futile, but she doesn’t like the idea of going down without a fight, either. “You promised me my family would be safe,” she growls, “I got you what you asked for! You said it would help them!”

“Oh, but Princess there’s still so much you don’t know!” He giggles once more, the sound raising the hairs on the back of Emma’s neck. She doesn’t know what he is talking about, but she suddenly doesn’t want to know. It’s too much. He must see the look on her face, because he laughs and claps again, “Don’t tell me they left the most important part out!”

“Spit it out, Imp,” Hook growls, but is silenced by an invisible clamp on his throat. He struggles for air until Emma shouts for Rumple to stop.

“As I was  _saying—“_  He continues, and Emma has never wanted to hurt someone so badly in her entire life, because he is toying with her, and she has no choice but to listen to this, to listen to someone who knows more about her life than she does, and she hates it. “—Your parents left out the most interesting part! You see, Princess, there’s a prophecy. A child born of True Love will be the Evil Queen’s downfall.”

Coldness rushes through Emma’s veins at his words, and she is completely unwilling to believe what he is telling her. She couldn’t be the key to this… she couldn’t be.

_“Emma, we have to keep you safe, do you understand?” Her mother’s eyes, usually so full of warmth, were filled with tears, and Emma bit her lip hard to keep from crying herself. “You are so important.”_

Emma hears the unspoken words  _not just to us_ , almost as clear as if her mother had spoken them aloud, and suddenly everything falls into place. They didn’t just send her away for her physical safety; they sent her away so she could fix things when the time came. This was all out of her control, out of their control… a prophecy.

“No…” she hears herself saying, feeling detached from the moment.

“Emma, what is he talking about?” Hook asks her, desperation in his voice, and she doesn’t even spare him a glance before she is fighting frantically against her binds, nearly screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Let me go, let me go!”

“Emma, Emma stop, he’ll hurt you… Emma!” Hook shouts, finally breaking through the fog that is coating her thoughts.

“You want to go, Princess?” Suddenly she is dropped unceremoniously to the ground, “Then by all means—“ Rumple points to the door behind her, “Go.”

Emma is tempted, she is so,  _so_ tempted. She locks eyes with Hook, and underneath the cool indifference that he tries so hard to portray, she sees a man. She sees Killian Jones. In that moment, she knows she can’t leave him behind. In a split second decision, she’s on her feet, her satchel in hand. She reaches inside and grips the dragon’s egg, trying to convey with her eyes to Hook that she has a plan. “Take it,” she says to Rumple, who is eyeing the object as if he didn’t believe it really existed.

He takes the egg from her, and waves his hand over it. As he does, it begins to crack, and Emma takes a quick step backwards in fear. As she moves, she can hear that in Rumple’s distraction, the magic keeping Hook suspended against the wall has faltered, and Hook is on his feet, one hand reaching out to steady her.

“Was that so hard, Princess?” The Dark One is taunting her again, and she grits her teeth to keep from acting out too soon.

“Just tell me what I need to do to stop her.” She doesn’t bother telling him who she means.

“Simple,” The Dark One meets her eyes, and for once, she is afraid of him. The look he gives her tells her that he knows much more than she ever will, even about her own self, and the thought makes her stomach clench. “You need to harness your magic.”

“Excuse me?” Hook croaks, and Emma elbows him to keep him quiet. The egg continues to crack, and when it finally breaks, Rumple pulls out a vial, filled with what looks like two strands of hair, glowing and woven together. He waves a hand over it and when he does, the vial turns a dark purple, a purple that reminds Emma of the mist that seems to shroud Regina wherever she goes.

“Think about who you want to protect. Think about  _why_. You are the product of True Love, dearie.  _You are the Savior._ ”

Emma’s entire world tilts on its axis at those words, and she vaguely registers the force of magic pushing them both out the front doors of the castle, and only comes back to the moment when she lands in a heap on the ground, half on top of Hook.

“He let us go,” Hook mutters, “What the bloody hell was  _that_  about?”

“He told me nothing,” she mutters. “He told me nothing! All he told me was what I already know; that I’m a Princess!”

“Come again?” Hook stumbles to his feet, and appears to be checking her over for injury, his eyes lingering on where her wound was (and has seemingly disappeared).

“I’m royal, okay?” She nearly yells, taking two steps forward and shoving him hard in the chest, “I’m the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White, and they sent me away when I was younger to protect me from the Evil Queen.”

“A princess,” he repeats, sounding out of breath.

“Yes! A princess, who apparently is the key to stopping this stupid  _war_ , and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do!  _Harness your magic_ ,” she mocks in a high-pitched voice.

“You left,” Hook’s voice breaks through her thoughts and she looks at him in disbelief.

“You want to talk about that  _now?!_ ”

“Yes, Princess,” he sneers, “I do.”

“You don’t understand—“

“Then make me!” He shouts, and for the first time, Emma sees that he might be more vulnerable in this moment than even her.

“I couldn’t take the chance that I was wrong about you.” She whispers, and wonders when they got so close to each other.

“ _Why?_ ”

“Because I trust you,” she says, her voice sounding foreign to her own ears. “I trust you, and trust is dangerous, especially now that I’m supposed to  _fix everything._ ”

Hook— _Killian_  – seems frozen in place, and she wonders what he’s thinking about, until he takes two strides forward, slides his good hand into her hair, and then he’s kissing her. She feels warm and cold all at once, and kisses him back seemingly without hesitation; feeling gratified when he sighs into her mouth and pulls her closer. Suddenly a jolt spikes through the both of them, filling her with warmth, and when they break apart, she can almost literally see the sparks filling the air between them. “That was…” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper, and she can’t respond, can barely stand on her own two feet.

She starts to pull away from him, but his hand is still in her hair, and he pulls her back to him, talking to her in that low, rough voice of his. “Please don’t run from me,” he says, and Emma shuts her eyes to block out the look on his face.

“Emma, you don’t need to be afraid of me. I… I’m a pirate, yes, but you… I’ve only known you for a short time, but already you’ve made me rethink everything.”

“How can you say that?”

“Perhaps it’s true that you’re the Savior, love. You seem to have saved me, anyway.”

.

.

.

It takes them three days to reach her parent’s castle, accompanied by Emma’s pseudo family – Granny and Red. Killian likes them well enough, and likes them even more when he sees how Emma is around them. She laughs more, smiles more, and her shoulders don’t seem to carry the burdens of her position anymore.

As they get closer to the castle, her fingers loosely tangle with his, and he glances down at her, ready to make a quip of amusement, but he stops himself when he sees the look on her face. She looks  _terrified_. He tugs her to a stop, frowning when she refuses to look at him.

He sighs, and only grows more frustrated when she tries to let go of his hand, trying to put distance between them in more ways than one. “You can do this, Emma.”

“How do you know?” She snaps, and it takes all his strength not to let it get to him, to not let her words cut him like he knows they’re intended to.

“Emma, you have bested me again and again, and there is not a doubt in my mind that you can get the better of the Queen. You have to trust me on this one, love.”

“Look, just because we’ve… we’ve kissed, it doesn’t mean you know me at all.” She says the words so firmly and with such a cold tone that he physically recoils from her. In seconds, she’s walking away from him, and he’s left standing there with his fist clenched, wondering when on earth her opinion of him started to mean so much.

As they continue to walk, he grows more and more angry with her – for pushing him away, for making him  _care,_  and he starts to wonder why he’s even still following them. If she didn’t want him there, he could leave. He could leave and never see her again, if that’s what she wants (although the thought of it leaves an ache in his chest).

“She’ll come around,” a voice says near his ear, and he turns to see Red there, looking at him knowingly. “This is what she does. When her emotions get too close to the surface, she hides.” He clenches his jaw and ignores her, choosing to keep walking before he says something he would regret later.

By the time they arrive at her parent’s castle, she is already inside. He hesitates for a moment, wondering if this should be where they part ways, but before he can turn away, Red grabs him by the elbow. “Snow and Charming should like to meet the man who saved their daughter’s life,” she says, pulling him along inside the grand entrance.

The halls were lined with lavish fabrics and tapestries, and the entire castle had almost a golden hue to it. He is pulled from his thoughts by the sight of Emma, embracing her parents. There are tears on both the Prince and Princesses faces, but not on Emma’s. She looks… relieved, he supposes, but also tense and uncomfortable, and he fights the urge to go to her side and take her hand again.

“I imagine we have quite a lot to talk about,” Emma says, her tone somber.

“I think you’re right. But first we need to show our guests to their rooms,” her mother says, turning to embrace Red and Granny both in turn. When her gaze lands on him, she stops, forcing a smile onto her face. “Emma, who is this?”

“Captain Killian Jones of the Jolly Roger, milady,” he introduces himself, forcing his confident swagger to be on full display. The façade is the only way he’ll get through this ordeal, especially when Emma still refuses to look at him.

“The Jolly Roger? That’s a pirate vessel,” The Prince interjects, a frown on his face.

“That’s right, your highness. Most people have taken to calling me—“

“Captain Hook?” Snow asks, and he nods in the affirmative.

“I met your daughter while she was on her quest for The Dark One and…” He ponders just how much of the truth he should tell them, and meets Emma’s eyes briefly. “… I accompanied her to the castle.”

“We are grateful, Captain,” Snow says, turning her back to him. “Emma, why don’t you show the Captain to a guest room?”

Emma doesn’t say anything, just restrains her glare until they’re out of sight of her parents. As he follows her down a long corridor, he grows more and more uneasy. He feels terribly out of place here, and even more so now that it seems Emma can barely tolerate his presence. If he wasn’t sure before that he didn’t deserve her, he is quite sure now. He will never fit in with this type of world, not in a world of  _royalty_.

“Here,” Emma mumbles, “You can stay in here.”

“Emma…” he trails off on a frustrated sigh, “Can we please talk about why you’re being so difficult?”

The shock on her face almost makes him laugh. “ _I’m_  being difficult?! You brooded the entire way here!”

“Because you’re shutting me out!”

“You have no idea what I’m going through—“

“I never claimed to share or understand the burdens upon you Emma,” he says with fervor, taking a step closer to her, “I only wanted to help you. That’s all I’ve been trying to do. Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?”

“If it’s so hard, then maybe you should go back to your ship.”

“Dammit, Emma!” He curses in frustration, taking a step forward and cupping her face in his hand, claiming her lips in a bruising, angry kiss. She matches him breath for breath, her own hand sliding into his tousled hair, scratching at his scalp lightly. He pulls her tight against him, the magnetic pull between them once again crackling in the air. He can’t make sense of her, can’t make sense of what he’s gotten himself into, but in this moment, nothing makes more sense than  _this_  – her lips on his, her hands on him, breathing in her breath as if it was his own. “You bloody stubborn, _impossible_  woman,” he breathes when they pull apart. “The minute you saved my life from that godforsaken ogre, I knew there was no going back. I’m here for you until you tell me to leave, and that’s the truth, Emma.”

She’s quiet for a long time, and he kicks himself for being so honest. He can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but he knows that trying to claim that Emma means nothing to him would be futile. She’s a tsunami, sweeping into his life so fast that it’s all he can do to stay afloat and not drown from the weight of what this could mean. He isn’t blind – he saw what happened when they first kissed outside of the Dark One’s castle.  There’s no going back, not for him.

.

.

.

She had assumed that knowing Killian’s intentions towards her would have made her feel burdened, or guilty somehow, but it’s proving to do the opposite – his words from earlier leave her feeling lighter than she’s felt in days.

She’s still not ready to give herself over to him, not yet, not when the looming threat of a battle with Regina is hanging over all their heads. Sleep doesn’t come easy for her, however, and she spends most of the night tossing and turning.

Her restlessness is ended for her forcibly, however, when she hears screams coming from the Great Hall. She is up and out of her bed in seconds, not even bothering to change into something other than her nightgown, and when she bolts into the hallway, she can see flashes of what she assumes is magic coloring the walls – blue (the Fairy, she knows), combined with a sickly purple that she knows is Regina.

When she runs into the hall, she sees her father locking swords with Black Knights, and her mother up on a balcony, firing arrow after arrow into the fray. She stands horrified, wondering how in the world they could possibly defeat this kind of army, but then she remembers The Dark One.

 _Think about who you want to protect_.

 _Think about why_.

 _You are the product of True Love_.

  _You are the Savior._

Almost if she’s read her thoughts, Regina stops where she is standing and turns to face Emma, her face breaking out into the widest, cruelest grin Emma has ever seen. “ _You,_ ” she says, and Emma barely has time to duck before a curse is sent her way, causing part of the stone wall behind her to explode into bits. “Don’t hide from me, darling girl. You and I have unfinished business!”

Emma runs, runs as fast as she can, trying to get to her father. She knows if she can get there, she can take his sword, and she can protect him… she can end this. She can kill Regina and she can use whatever it is that makes her the Savior to fix all of this, and end the fighting.

“Emma!” She hears Killian, but she can’t stop, can’t turn, and when she finally reaches her father, his face is pale with fear, and when she opens her mouth to ask him what’s wrong, she sees her mother, in the Queen’s grip.

“Don’t do anything hasty, dear.” Regina says, her tone dripping with evil.

“Let her go,” her father growls, and Emma tenses.

“I don’t think so.” Regina begins to sink her hand into Snow White’s chest, and someone screams (Emma thinks that it’s her), and it all happens in a split second – Emma shuts her eyes tightly and thinks of her mother reading her bedtime stories. She thinks of her father teaching her how to wield a sword, she thinks of the both of them taking her for walks in the nearby village and buying her flowers to wear in her hair. She thinks of Granny, and Ruby, and how they had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go as if she was their family. She thinks of Granny’s homemade soup and kind smiles, and thinks of Ruby’s laugh.

She thinks of Killian. Hook. Whoever he had been when she met him, he was Killian Jones to her now, and she thinks of him. She thinks of the look that was in his eyes right before he kissed her for the first time – how he had looked at her like she was something precious, something to be treasured. She thinks of how her heart beats faster whenever he’s near her.

After that, warmth spreads throughout her entire body, and her vision tints white. Soon after that, everything goes black.

.

.

.

“Why isn’t she waking up?!”

“Emma, Emma love, please—“

“Her heart rate is slowing, we have to—“

“Please wake up…”

Broken, fragmented sentences are all she can hear as she drifts between sleep and consciousness. She tries to answer, but nothing comes out, and she feels a sharp pain near her heart as sleep overtakes her again.

.

.

.

His heart nearly stops when Emma collapses. The Queen has been gravely injured, that’s to be sure, but nothing else exists for him after Emma almost hits the ground, her father catches her before her head hits the stone floor.

He sees the other woman (a fairy, he thinks) approach Regina slowly, attaching some type of cuff to her wrist while she is unconscious, but his attention is drawn back to Emma when Snow clamors over to her daughter, stroking her hair. “Is she…” she asks shakily, and he is interrupting before he can stop himself.

“No,” he says firmly, “No, she… no.”

“Her breathing is slow,” Charming says, and something in Killian’s stomach twists and turns at the idea that he might never see her green eyes again, that he might never again hear her laugh or get the chance to tell her how much she has grown to mean to him.

“She used magic,” He whispers, and Snow’s gaze snaps to his.

“She’s the product of True Love. It was foreseen that she might have… capabilities.”

It’s hard for him to wrap his head around, but he saw it with his own eyes. Emma has concentrated, and shot the most brilliant white light he had ever seen out of her hands, and Regina had fallen. It was as simple as that.  _The Savior_.

“Emma, Emma love, please wake up,” he says quietly, kneeling at her side. He ignores the look he is getting from her parents, and continues to whisper to her, “Emma, you need to come back.”

“Her heart rate is slowing, we have to move her!”

  
“Please come back,” is the last thing he whispers before her father lifts her into his arms and carts her away, Snow hot on his heels. He follows as well, but at a distance, still unsure of himself in this castle.

.

.

.

When Emma wakes, her chest feels tight, and her throat is sore. She aches everywhere, really, and she sputters out a cough. When she tries to sit up, a cool hand presses gently to her shoulder, urging her to lie down slowly. “Easy does it, lass.”

“Killian—“

He shushes her softly, “Don’t overuse your voice, Emma. You seem to be making a habit of near-death experiences,” he tries to joke, but his voice sounds rough with emotion. After a beat, he adds, “The woman who poisoned you in the forest… it was Regina. I didn’t recognize her then, but today… it was her.”

Her eyes grow wide of their own volition, “Regina, is she—“

“She’s alive.”

“No! She can’t be, she’ll—“

“Emma, stop. Listen to me.” His voice is gentle, but firm, and he takes her hand and begins stroking her fingers seemingly without noticing. “She’s alive but she’s powerless. She’s in the dungeon. The Blue Fairy attached some type of device to her wrist that prevents her from using magic.”

Emma sags bag against the bed in relief, her hand still entwined with Killian’s. “It’s over?” She asks, and her voice sounds small even to her own ears. His eyes soften considerably as he gazes at her, and he nods.

“It’s over. You saved everyone, love.” He’s looking at her in the way of his again, so full of awe and admiration, and she nearly jumps when she feels him trail a finger down her cheek. “You’ve gone red, Princess,” he teases, and she ducks her head to hide a smile.

Emma loosens her grip on Killian’s hand slightly, and spends a minute watching their tangled fingers. She fiddles with one of the rings that he’s wearing, the rich red stone bright in the candle light of the room. “I’m surprised my father hasn’t kicked you out of here,” she jokes, and he chuckles quietly.

“He tried.” The words are so simple, but they say so much. He stayed with her.

Unable to do anything else, Emma leans forward, and when Killian realizes her intent, he meets her halfway. Their lips meet in a kiss that is probably too passionate for someone who is meant to be recovering after using magic for the first time, but she doesn’t care. Her arms wind their way around his neck, and he sighs, tugging her closer. Slowly, their kiss becomes unhurried, and she revels at being this close to him and not feeling panicky. She doesn’t want this moment to end.

“You should rest,” he murmurs, his forehead still pressed against hers after the break apart.

“Be here when I wake up,” she says, in the most Princess-y tone she can manage. He laughs softly, and her heart clenches at the sound.

“As you wish, love.”

She falls asleep to the feeling of his fingers tracing patterns on her hand, and she thinks he’s imprinting himself on her heart, as well.


End file.
